Okay, so here's a quick note to ward off your confusion. Like I said in the summary, this story follows two of the infinite possible realities. This is remembering that, according to some theories, a new reality is created for every possible outcome in every decision or event that occurs. So, here's the second reality I'll be following. It starts off just after Jack's met up with Sam in the jungle, like he did back last chapter, in Reality 1 (R1).
Questions? Don't hesitate to ask.
R2
"Good," said Jack. "I'll come with you."
Sam sighed slightly, well enough trained to keep it hidden. Truthfully, she'd been enjoying herself, out all alone in the jungle. While she was never entirely adverse to his company – well, maybe never was too strong a word. While she wasn't often adverse to his company, there certainly were times she'd rather just be alone. This was one of them. She'd been happy, and peaceful, working in solitude and listening to the noises of the forest. Insects seemed to be everywhere on this planet, and in every variety. She was no fan of bugs, but from a distance and when they were singing as prettily as they were, she could appreciate them.
She glanced over at Jack. He had his eyes on the path, picking his way over the leaves and vines with the careless attention she'd come to recognize as his trademark. "You really don't have anything to do here, do you, sir?" she inquired, smiling slightly.
He jumped a bit and glanced around at the changing scenery. "Here specifically?" They'd come out onto some sort of rocky plateau, probably a small cliff. "Or here as in on this planet?"
"Does it make a difference?"
"No," he shrugged, looking over at her briefly. "And… no."
She smiled and set her eyes back on the trail. "I didn't think so," she said, teasing lightly.
"Hey," he said, stopping. She stopped too, amused, and turned back. "What's that supposed to mean?" he called.
With a conscious effort, she smoothed the smile off her face. He glowered back at her, seeming to be trying to work something out. "You know," he said, meandering towards the edge of the outcropping. She watched him with vague alarm, wondering what he had in mind. "I bet I know something you don't."
Despite herself, she grinned, eyebrows shooting up. "What's that, sir?"
"Where P90s are made," he said, confident.
She blinked. Where had that come from? She'd been expecting something wiseass, maybe a crack at Jaffa humour or maybe even an attempt at obscure science, if he was feeling particularly brave. But, he'd gotten her. On her gun.
How embarrassing.
So, she bluffed. "Italy," she said, trying to imbue her voice with as much confidence as he had.
He snorted. "Belgium."
He also seemed inclined to gloat about it. Grinning, he stepped jauntily towards her, giving her a light shove towards the edge of the cliff as he passed. "Gotcha," he quipped as she staggered, nearly toppling off. She caught a glimpse of cloudy water below as she regained her balance and mentally shook a fist at him. Infuriating man…
"Do you know, sir," she began, trotting a bit to catch up with him, "you really are a bit of a child sometimes. With all due respect."
"Yeah," he laughed, "Real respectful there, Carter." He shook his head. "C'mon. Let's get back to base. I'm starving."
Upon arrival, there was some kafuffling due to someone or other not having shown up for kitchen duty. Dinner, as it turned out, was only half ready. The colonel was not amused.
Summoning all her patience and diplomatic ability, Carter slipped between the bickering men and declared – repetitively, with increasing degrees of volume – that she would do it, provided someone would take her samples to Lab 2 for analysis. This earned her several claps on the back and a surprised but rather proud glance from O'Neill. "Didn't know you cooked, Carter," he remarked, perching on the top step of a footladder by the side while she set about helping the other scientist preparing food.
"I'm not that bad, sir," she said, "but really, it's pea soup. What can you do to pea soup?"
"What indeed," he grumbled. "I'm hungry, Carter. Isn't there any meat?"
She grinned a bit. "It's not that bad, sir. It's good for you. And besides, Younge's a great cook. He'll make up for me, right, Younge?"
"Uh," the young man smiled a bit uncertainly, "Yes, ma'am."
She patted him on the shoulder, "Exactly. See, sir?" she grinned at him. "It'll be great."
Jack looked unappeased. "Where's the meat?"
The following morning rolled around despicably early, as usual. Tempted to just fall back to sleep, Sam turned over on her bunk, facing the wall and damning the alarm clock. Apparently, duty called. But for what? She wasn't of any particular use here.
She suspected Jack was having an even harder time of it. She enjoyed being out in the peaceful jungle, gathering samples, but he'd never had any patience for that sort of thing. He'd mentioned something to her about his Gameboy being broken, no doubt trying to hint at her to fix it. She'd have a look eventually, she figured. Maybe today.
Or, she thought, rolling over again and squinting into the light streaming in through the slatted windows, maybe tomorrow. It was an odd light; reddish, almost like sunset. That made sense, she supposed – the longer and uneven day-night cycle made a daylong sunset quite possible. And, if she thought about it, now was just about the right time for the sun to be going down. So, maybe she'd have a look at that Gameboy once it was dark.
Then again, they'd probably be even busier with sample gathering during the night. That was why they were here, after all, to study how the plants could adapt to having such a discrepancy in their light exposure. She sighed lightly and let her eyes slide closed again. It could be kinda fun, crawling about in the jungle in the dark…
"Carter!"
The sharp bark jolted her awake. She shot upright, smacking her head into the bottom of Dawson's bunk above her. She fell back down, one hand on her forehead, and cracked an eye open, smothering a moan. "Sir?"
"What do you think this is," he demanded, looming over her, shadowed by the window's light, "a tropical resort? Get up!"
She blinked once, slower than usual to register what he was saying. "What time is it?" she asked, sitting up with more care this time and swinging her legs off the side of the bed.
"Eight thirty, Carter!" Jack exclaimed. "C'mon, get a move on."
She hopped to her feet. "Sorry, sir," she offered sincerely, snatching up her shower bag from beneath her bunk. "I must've fallen back to sleep."
He grunted, eyes flicking downwards. She followed his gaze. As was her off-world custom, she'd slept in a regulation tank top and shorts, but being woken like this by her CO was decidedly not the usual. Normally, she was the first up, or Teal'c, and it wasn't as if he'd ever even notice what she was wearing. Standing here, in front of Jack, technically dressed perfectly decently, she felt more than a little exposed.
She felt herself flush slightly and ran her hands over her arms, more for the excuse to cover her chest than to ease any real chill. "Right," she said awkwardly. "I'll just—"
He sidestepped to let her pass in the same direction she was headed. Nearly colliding with him, she drew back and tried again, giving a sheepish little grin and gesturing towards the entrance to the shower room with her bag. "Yeah. Uh," he cleared his throat, "Right. See you later, Carter."
She paused at the entrance to the change room, bare feet cold on the metal floor. "Um, yes, sir."
And then he was gone, and she was out of sight, and all the awkwardness of the moment dissipated as the hot water cascaded down over her shoulders. Absently, she ran her hands over her body, resting a moment longer on her hips. She couldn't deny the lingering want in the pit of her belly, stirred by the near-contact and age old darkness in his eyes as he'd looked her over. She was well familiar with the feeling; there was no point pushing it away and pretending it didn't exist.
Soap in one hand, she passed it over her neck, down from one shoulder, over a breast and then the gentle swell of her abdomen, the smooth ridges of the muscles buried beneath. Down to her feet and then back up, she paused at the jointure of her legs, slick fingers dangerously close. She could, if she wanted to. She was already late for the day's work. Besides, she was just an add-on here, superfluous. It was an unusual feeling, being superfluous, and came with certain freedoms. But this, in a cramped, prefab shower stall, just seemed wrong.
With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the cool wall and her hand moved on, up over her stomach and the second breast, finishing where she'd begun, on the back of her neck. What would it be like, to feel Jack's hands on her? He'd be gentle; she could tell. He was a surprisingly gentle man, for all his rough exterior. Her fingers grazed over her throat, up beneath her chin and then down to her collarbone. Would he be slow, sensual? Her eyes slipped closed.
Jerking herself back to the present, she forced her eyes open and shut the water off. No sense moping around here, fantasizing about something that was never, at least not in any foreseeable future, going to happen. It wasn't like that thought was going to stop her from wanting him, she reflected idly as she dried herself off, but, somewhere in the back of her mind, it did remind her that she had to accept that wanting him was all she could ever do.
She passed by the kitchen on her way out to the yard and stopped to poke her head in. It was empty, the steel counters cleared and wiped down. Regretfully, she continued on and resigned herself to waiting until lunch.
Outside, she was greeted with the same odd light she'd seen through the bunkroom window. The sky was tinged orange and red, the sun out of sight behind the tall trees. Another thirty hours or so until it actually went down, she mused vaguely, heading towards Jenson, the outpost leader, who was bending over a potted sample.
"Hey, Tony," she greeted him cheerfully.
He looked up. "Major," he smiled. "Have a good sleep in?"
She pinked, running a hand over her still-wet hair. "Sorry about that. I must've fallen back to sleep… I don't usually."
He laughed. "No, don't worry about it. It's not like we have anything pressing to do."
She nodded, her grin still a bit guilty. "Anything I can help with?"
She ended up doing the same thing as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that: sample gathering. It was a slightly different area than before, though, further out from the camp, almost near where Daniel was supposed to be poking about. But, knowing him, he'd be nowhere near where he was supposed to be, and she wouldn't see him till supper that night.
By lunch, she was hot, tired, very hungry, and more than a little cranky as she trudged back to the outpost. She hadn't had much success in finding new species to bring back, and the bugs had been unusually annoying, landing and tickling any exposed skin. She was sweaty, normal for the humid heat, and this time covered in not only smears of soil, but of insect innards. Not a pleasant sight. Also not a pleasant smell. She longed for another shower.
She made do with scrubbing her hands and arms before sitting down to lunch. Carey had been on kitchen duty, and was currently in the process of handing out the sandwiches to the waiting group, seated around the long table. Sam gave the young lieutenant a smile as she passed her a turkey-and-mustard on brown bread. The food in an outpost like this was never good, but somehow the team's spirits were perky enough that no one seemed to mind.
Well, except Jack. But for now, Sam noted, glancing over at him, he seemed content enough. It was a meat sandwich.
The others were mostly present and reasonably cheery. The little colony totalled twelve, including both SG teams. Teal'c was still offsite, busy working with the techs back in Cheyenne Mountain, bringing their number down to eleven. Daniel was out wandering, looking for civilization, and neither Larson nor Neil—both civilians—had deemed it necessary to return for the midday meal. That left eight: herself, Jack, Higgs, Carey, Dawson, and Cullins, and then the scientists not part of any SG team: Jenson, and Younge.
They were halfway through eating when Daniel burst in, grubby and slightly out of breath. "Um, guys," he said, pointing over his shoulder, "You are aware the Gate's not working, right?"
The troupe of them dutifully abandoned lunch and followed him out to the Gate, which was, indeed, not working. At all. Irked, Sam hit another key on the dialer, to no response. None, nothing, nada… Jack's voice sang out in her head, brightly listing every negative he knew. She furrowed her brow, part to clear her mind and part out of frustration, and crouched down, peering at the underside of the device to check for damage.
"I don't understand it, sir," she admitted, straightening. "There don't seem to be any external indications of what happened. I can only guess that either the power somehow got cut, or something's happened to the region of subspace it's trying to access."
"Something like what?" Jack asked, squinting at her and swatting at a fly on his arm. "Giant subspace bugs?"
She shrugged a bit, helpless. "Without any instruments, I can't know for sure, sir." She paused. "We didn't do anything to it, though. If we wait, it may come back by itself."
"When?"
She winced, hating not having an answer. "That's anyone's guess, sir."
If you're now very confused about why I'm sort of repeating a chapter, see note at top of page. :)
